Hello. Thanks for checking this story out. It was the very FIRST SPN story I wrote after watching some of season one. I had no idea what was going on in season two when it was written. (Ha Ha) The villian orignally appeared as a clown... and Sam liked it! And John, was a caring father... Shows what I knew at the time. It has since been rewritten. (grin) Mostly...

As a matter of fact, most of it was written on a crowded train through Northern Germany. This is dedicated to my friend, Silwyna, who got me hooked on this show. (I do curse her some days...)

It would be set about 6 months into the first season.

Replies are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy.


Mirage

Somewhere between a balloon burst and a gun shot-- that's what the pop sounded like to Sam Winchester as it startled him awake. He winced as he straightened. He'd been slumped against the passenger door.

The classic black car shook violently, but Dean Winchester, ever aware of potential danger, remained in complete control as he guided the Impala to the side of the road.

"Dad's gonna kick your ass when we find him," sneered Sam as the engine stopped. "You're not taking care of her. Maybe he'll take it away? Give her to me?"

Dean glared at his younger brother. His jaw was tight as he replied. "Like I can control a flat tire."

Sam smiled confidently. "I told you I saw a bulge in the tire."

"Like you'd know what a tired bulge looked like." Dean growled and jumped out of the car to inspect the damage. Sam was quickly at his side.

Sam sighed and proceeded to open the trunk. He began removing various layers of armament, the tools of their trade. "It'll take forever to get at the spare." He stopped and turned to his brother. "A little help here?"

Dean swallowed hard and attempted to retain his typical cocky façade. Unfortunately, his voice came out as a whisper. "There isn't one."

Sam had already come to that conclusion. "There isn't one." He starred at his older brother dumbfounded.

Dean gestured at the layers of weapons. "Sammy, this stuff takes up a lot of room. Something has to give. The car is only so big… Especially with you, the gigantor along."

Sam wasn't sure if he was angrier at the situation or his brother's continued insistence on using his childhood nickname or any other insult to his height, so he simply said nothing. He waited however, for Dean's response… his next big idea.

Dean laughed. "Hey, no problem geek. The next town's only two miles away. You can jog over and send a tow truck back."

Sam's expression remained unchanged. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. "Or we can just call one?"

Dean smiled broadly. "No service." He'd checked while Sam dug through the trunk.

Sam double checked his own phone and groaned. "Why don't you head to town? You're the one who ignored me."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "I'm older and I ordered you to do it. As my little brother, that's your job. The rules say."

Sam's eyes flashed with anger, but before he could respond, Dean added.

"Besides, you're the health nut of the family. I thought you'd enjoy the exercise while I guard the car." He ended with a grin that dared Sam to challenge him.

Sam merely rolled his eyes and scowled. He checked his pockets briefly and started off down the road.

Dean called out to him to stop, which Sam did, but didn't turn back. Dean jogged up to him. "What are you packing?"

Sam pursed his lips and refused to answer.

Dean wasn't fazed. He lifted each side of his brother's jacket, finding him unarmed. He scowled. "Haven't you learned anything? You're heading into a strange town unarmed?"

"I never pack unless we're working. You know that." Sam straightened his back in his own defense.

Dean shook his head. "That must be because I'm always here to protect you." He held out a hand gun, "here."

Sam glared. "If I take that gun I'm going to shoot you with it." He raised an eyebrow in anticipation of Dean's response.

Dean held up his free hand. "Hey, just trying to help. Don't say I didn't warn you. This might be the work of…"

"I warned YOU about the tire. How can that be… ARGH!" Sam waved his brother away and turned back to his journey.

…….. SPN……..

"Stop pouting." Sam couldn't help but grin. It was risky in his brother's current state, but better than 'I told you so.'

Dean glared at him and the ting of his spoon along the edge of his coffee cup increased. "I am NOT pouting, so you can just shut up."

Sam considered an additional annoying statement, but thought better. Dean loved his car. He took any issue involving it very personally and woe to anyone who might harm it. He opted for a more sympathetic approach, even though deep down he knew it was useless. "At least the new tires will be here by morning. It could have been worse." Sam flashed his best, innocent baby brother grin.

It was a mistake.

"Are you kidding me? I hope you enjoyed your meal. It's the last one you're going to get until I can drum up some money. That guy totally ripped me off. There's no way two tires could cost $600."

As a child, Sam might have recoiled from his brother's anger, but his pride prevented such steps now. He'd fought too hard to forge his own identity, separate from his family. Softly he added, "It's a classic car."

"He should have repaired it." He glared at his brother. "But someone had to go ahead and agree to new ones."

Sam's patience and sympathy came to an end. "Heaven forbid all the peel-outs you insist on when you drive should weaken the tires… much less the thousands of miles we've driven in the past six months alone."

Dean never liked defeat, much less at his brother's hand. "I'm heading back to the hotel. At least we can use the opportunity to catch up on some sleep."

Sam shook his head in disbelief at his brother's sudden logic. As he watched him go, he hoped he would indeed sleep. Then the argument wouldn't need to continue.

The waitress came by and offered him a refill, which he accepted. Sam studied the meager occupants of the café. "I thought the sign said there were 10,000 citizens. It seems pretty quiet for the dinner hour?"

Sam wanted to slap himself. It seemed to him anyone with the name Winchester had an inherent and undeniable need to find evil in everything. It was annoying. No wonder he'd wanted to study the rational world of law.

The older woman thought a moment and then glanced around herself before answering. "People seem to stick around their own homes these days."

"Why so?" It seemed a particular answer to Sam.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You ever heard of something called a family dinner? They say it's good for kids." She smiled and slipped the bill on the table.

Sam chuckled at the thought of a Winchester family dinner. They'd be lucky if silverware was used to eat food and someone would certainly be cleaning a gun or sharpening a knife.

After roaming the streets of town for another couple of hours, Sam decided Dean might be right after all. A little extra sleep wouldn't hurt either of them.

He breathed a sigh of relief to find Dean fast asleep. Slipping off his jeans, he climbed into bed in his boxers and t-shirt. He drifted quickly to sleep.

Dean opened one eye and watched with relief as his brother drifted off to sleep. He'd spent most of his life with one job, seeing to his younger brother's welfare. Sam's years at college had been hell. He'd learned to live with a constant feeling of unease. Since Sam's return to the family business, willingly or otherwise, he'd felt more relaxed than he had in years. He again felt a clear purpose and it suited him well.

…….. SPN……..

Sam had grown used to the tragic images of his dreams. Some nights they were vivid enough to wake him. He would tremble for a few minutes until the avalanche of emotions passed and then distract himself until morning. He never tried to regain sleep.

Tonight was different. There were no clear images or faces. Lights, colors, and shapes seemed to blur before his eyes. In his dream, he would reach out to touch them, but failed to grasp anything.

There was no fear attached to the images, exactly the opposite. They brought him comfort. He felt again like a young, inquisitive boy. Best of all, he felt innocent.

He should have known it wouldn't last. It never did.

One by one the images seemed to disappear or blend together. Soon a figure had taken shape in the distance of his dream. Sam was still not afraid. He kept imagining an elf or fairy or other such playful creature.

Then another image appeared; one that frightened him a bit as it made no sense in the context. It was clearly Dean asleep in the next bed. The dream figure gestured to Dean as if inviting him to play. Sam felt an overwhelming desire of selfishness. He wanted to continue to enjoy the figures alone. He waved it away from the image of his brother. He didn't want to share. Dean didn't deserve the fun.

It didn't work. The shape drifted closer to Dean.

Angered at his impending loss, Sam moved his dream body to intercept. He would keep this dream to himself. As he neared the shape, he slowed down. Something wasn't quite right. Proximity revealed not a comfortable fairy or even a semi-scary elf, rather a sickly old man.

What Sam had once thought were colorful polka dots were really pockets of red and gold pus dotting his body. The man's skin dropped in folds from his angular bones.

This monster was not harmless and now it was heading directly for Dean.

Sam saw only one chance to save his brother. With adrenalin reinforced strength, he lunged at his brother in order to come between Dean and the danger. He landed with a thud and shifted to kick the old man away.

He wasn't fast enough.

Sam felt the old man's cold, clammy touch on his arm as he fought to move aside. And then he suddenly felt nothing.

…….. SPN……..

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Dean shouted as Sam sprawled across him. "Get off me! Have you gone nuts?"

Sam opened his eyes and found himself laying across Dean's bed, but not for long. With a hefty shove, Dean pushed his brother onto the floor. "Can't a man get some sleep without his brother attacking him?"

"I was dreaming," stammered Sam. "It felt so real." He sat on the floor, dazed.

"About what? The WWE? This ain't a wrestling ring little brother." Dean rolled over and finally took a good look at Sam. "Hey, were you dreaming or having a nightmare? Should I pack up? Where are we headed?"

Sam shook his head, finally feeling more like himself. "No… it's fine. It was just a regular old nightmare." Despite the calming of his spirit, his voice came out as a whisper.

Dean ran his hand across his face to buy time. What was he supposed to say or do? "Look, I'm awake now and you don't look real convinced. Why don't you tell me about it and I'll decide."

Sam pulled himself back into his own bed. "No, it was just… stupid. Besides, it happened just now, so it's over."

Dean's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "What do you mean 'just now'?"

Sam sighed, knowing full well Dean wouldn't let it drop. His voice already held the 'concerned brother' twinge. "In my dream, it was this sick thing… literally."

"What kind of sick thing? We've encountered lots. Wind Walker? Reeper?" Dean hoped it wasn't a Shapeshifter. He just wasn't in the mood to fight that battle again.

Sam glared at Dean for interrupting and remained silent a few extra beats to make his point. "At first I thought it was nice, friendly even—but when I got closer… It was pretty hideous—all sickly and gross."

"Ok, so new demon. Where was it and how do we kill it?" Dean asked. His voice was filled with both sincerity and excitement.

Sam chuckled, finally feeling calm. "No… it's… it was going after you and that's when I dove to push you out of the way."

Dean's pride didn't like being saved by his brother, even in a dream. He also wasn't yet convinced it was just a dream, especially since he'd been the target. "Sounds legit to me. Give me more to go on though."

Sam raised his hands and waved Dean off. "No really! It wasn't like the other visions. I think it was really just a nightmare, like normal people get."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you normal, freak?"

Sam was ready. "I'm sure it was just my subconscious mind wishing I could be half as brave as my big brother." The sarcasm dripped from his words.

"You wish!" Dean grabbed his extra pillow and threw it at his still grinning brother. "Bitch! Go to sleep and save the WWE for the ladies… if you could ever meet one. Makes sense that you're dreaming about it…"

Dean rattled on proudly to himself. Sam was on it instantly though. "HA! Jerk! Shows what you know." He waited for Dean's full attention. "Who says I was alone after you left the restaurant pouting? Obviously you didn't notice the table in the corner."

Dean starred at his brother, stunned. He couldn't believe it was true and yet Sam had been gone a considerable amount of time… certainly time to have… In the next moment he knew he'd been played. He snatched his remaining pillow and offered his threat. Sam dared him to throw it with his expression.

Dean growled, crumbled the pillow in his arms and rolled away from his brother. "I knew you didn't get any."